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June 19, 2013

When I first started writing, I just wrote. I didn't care about getting published, if anyone ever read my book or what genre my book landed in. Turns out, when you do want to get published, you need to know who will read your book.

Throughout the years, and several books later (both suspense and romance), I found three similarities in every single one of my books.

One, there is a hero and a heroine.
Two, opposites attract.
Three, larger than life conflict.

Initially, I thought I could write just suspense and I tried with LET ME OUT and DIE FOR ME. But in the end, and with some words from my publisher, the books are actually romantic suspense.

With SOUR CHERRY, I actually set out to write straight romantic suspense and succeeded. I didn't struggle in the least to keep the balance between suspense and romance and finished the manuscript in record time.

The thriller I'm writing? The struggle is back and rearing its ugly head at every turn. I wanted this book to be a straight thriller for a better chance of landing my dream agent. However, the drive and the intuition aren't there.

And I know why.

I write romantic suspense. I love romantic suspense and I'm comfortable there. While my tastes will most likely change in the future or stories will make me grow out of that comfort zone, I'm trying to make my WIP into something it's not.

June 13, 2013

My baby is a month old and it's time for me to get back into the game of running. To do that, I've set myself a new goal.Last year I'd made the announcement I was runningRagnar. And I fully intended to do it. I trained all summer...in Vegas...during the day. Seeing as I run better in 100+ degree temps better than Spring temps, it wasn't bad. I'd averaged about 5 miles a day.Then I got pregnant. I even continued running, still determined to run the race. But it seemed Fate had other choices. Not that I was sick. In fact, I probably had the easiest pregnancy in the world. No, turns out my entire team decided not to run the event and I didn't want to run with strangers. Now, though. I've set a new goal: a half marathon.This one to be exact:Big Cottonwood Marathon and Half

I've started my training and I have until September to get back my endurance back. I'm determined to finish this goal. Luckily my training program is perfect for me; run twice a week, long runs on the weekends. While this isn't a normal schedule and I do have a bit more weight to lose and muscle to get back, I'm also taking on the P90X challenge for an overhall.Is anyone else taking on this challenge right now? Any tips? What goals have you set for yourself this year?

May 25, 2013

I did it!My day job is in the past as I take a chance on my freelance editing business full-time, which also gives me the ability to write as much as I want!

I've been looking forward to this day, month, year, for over seven years and I honestly can't tell you how scared and excited I am. I have several projects in the works for this year, some romance, some thriller and some suspense and I just hope I'll be able to do them justice.Here's a sneak peek into what's to come from one of my romantic suspense novellas, Kinda Outta Luck.

Having a drink thrown in her face wasn’t the worst thing that’d occurred
today.

Pippa McCoy inhaled another smoke-filled breath as the
woman in front of her flailed on the Magnolia Bay’s plush carpeting. Limbs shot
through the air, wails echoed over the slot machines and a small glimpse of hot
pink panties made an appearance.

“Ms. Carlisle, you’re
making a scene!” She plucked a lime from suit’s collar and tossed it to the
floor. The bitter taste of tequila and lime juice seeped between her lips.
She’d never been a fan of the fruity drinks.

The wails grew louder
and Pippa took a step back, surveying the casino’s crowd to count exactly how
many sets of awestruck gazes they’d attracted. This was exactly why her clients
hired her. Avoiding public breakdowns and embarrassment of monumental
proportion came at a pretty price they didn’t mind paying when it came to
breakups.

Kneeling in front of her
client’s now ex-fiancé, Pippa hiked her purse higher on her shoulder and
reached out to contain Ms. Carlisle’s thrashing wrists. “Amy,”—she tightened
her grip—“you’re making a fool of yourself. I understand you’re upset, but you
need to get a hold of yourself.”

Not exactly therapeutic,
but effective all the same.

Ms. Carlisle relaxed,
sniffling in short burst as she wrenched her hands away.

Pippa let her, slightly
wobbling on the thick carpeting in her four-inch heels as she straightened. With
a full view of the sobbing woman at her feet, her heart dropped. She’d built a
career on delivering bad news on a daily basis, but the sting never went away. “How
about we get a drink? That will make you feel better, don’t you think?”

Brown hate-filled eyes
glared up at her. Seconds later, Amy Carlisle stood, trying to push strands of
hair back into place. “Who the hell are you anyway? His mistress? Are you the
reason he dumped me?”

Kinda Outta Luck will be finished this summer! Look for it soon, but if you're looking for some sexy romantic suspense in the meantime, Sour Cherry is officially releasing on May 29th! You can buy it on Amazon now and all other devices on Wednesday!

April 26, 2013

Today is release day for Die For Me!I will give away 5 here to people who will read the book and post an honest review at Goodreads and Amazon and/or tell other people about my book.

﻿

I would give some away directly at Facebook, but they have pretty strict rules about that sort of thing, so FB people, leave a comment here and you’re in.If you follow me onTwitter, well, follow along!

RULES

Void where prohibited. Must be 18 or older to enter. No purchase necessary. Post a comment to this post by Midnight Pacific on Friday May 3, 2013. International okay.Note: By “honest” review, I mean exactly that. Your review should say what you think about the story.

April 9, 2013

As promised, here's a first look at Die For Me, releasing the beginning of May 2013!

Her escape from Bedford Hills had already made headlines.

Torrhent Lynd eyed the convenience store cashier as she
shuffled toward the bathroom, keeping her face averted in case his eyes moved
from her mug shot on the television. She darted into the dark room with her
supplies. With only one stall, a sink and a garbage can, the bathroom offered
what she needed but took any remaining dignity she had left.

The voice of a female agent filtered through the thin door
from the television.

Dangerous . . . armed . . . FBI.

Murderer.

The door buckled under the weight of being pushed in. “Hey!”
A series of thuds assaulted her ears. “We’re closing!”

There hadn’t been anyone but the cashier in the store when
she’d come in.

Torrhent leveraged her boot against the bottom of the door,
ignoring him. She couldn’t be recognized. She couldn’t go back to Bedford. Not
after she’d come this far.

“Hey!” Another round of banging.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

A scoff leaked through from the other side. “I’m closing in
five minutes. You have two.”

The grease stains on her shirt had smeared into a black
mess, leaving smudged spots on her arms and hands. She unbuttoned the flannel
as delicately as she could, her fingers trembling with the thought of what the truck
driver could have done to her if she hadn’t carried a knife. Then again,he’d taken everything that mattered.

Torrhent bent over the sink to wash her face. Her gray eyes
were rimmed with countless nights of unease, her hair matted with sweat, heat
and dirt. Two days of hitchhiking, sleeping under overpasses, and bathing in
convenience store bathrooms had led her to Vegas, but not without cost. Her
mind flashed back to what had happened in the truck.

“Someone was definitely watching over you back there.” She
confronted her reflection. “Now what are you going to do?”

She took her time washing off the rest of the driver’s
touch. The asshole had torn her favorite shirt and taken all her money as
payment for giving her a ride. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, the
blade in her boot and an empty backpack. She set the backpack on the floor and
pulled the knife from her boot. Grabbing a fistful of hair, Torrhent swiped the
blade through her frizzed red locks. Then she ran the faucet over her hair and
applied the dye she’d stolen off the store’s shelf. When she’d finished, bits
of her blistered skin peeked through her now shoulder-length dark hair.

Another round of knocks made her jump. “Hello in there! I
don’t have all night.”

She opened the door, finding a teen covered in acne from
forehead to chin staring back at her. The cashier.

Without a word, she put on the sunglasses she’d stolen from
the corner of the store and pushed past him. Fat drops of water tinted with
black hair dye slid down her neck and arms. She brushed it away without another
thought. Torrhent swept her pack over her shoulders, cringing from the pain of
her sunburned skin. The past two days had been hell.

She caught a customer eyeing her from across the store, his
baseball cap hiding most of his features. She kept her head down. Déjà vu
pounded against her mind as she studied him. It couldn’t be the same man she’d
noticed back in Phoenix. His clothes were different and she could have sworn
his mole had been on the opposite side of his face. But something familiar
called out to her.

In the background, the pretty agent on the black-and-white
television regaled reporters with details of Torrhent’s escape.

She clenched her teeth at the FBI agent’s slanderous
statements. Grabbing a couple bags of chips, some water and sunscreen, she
forced the supplies into her pack. With no money, if she wanted to eat she had
to steal. It was simple. It was easy. She kept her eyes on the floor as she
made her way toward the exit. Another two hundred miles stretched ahead of her
and she had to get moving.

Behind her, the television showed a smiling picture of her
stepfather. She’d gotten life without parole because the bastard had framed her
for a murder he committed, and he’d pay dearly for it. The taste of sweet
revenge coated her tongue as she stepped out into the hot Nevada desert.

* * *

“I’m sorry, sir. Nobody here has been admitted under that
name or fits the description you’ve given.”

Another let-down.

“Thank you.” Taigen Banvard ended the long-distance call,
releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Every day brought
the same disappointment, but he wouldn’t give up. The blood in his ledger
soaked through every page of his life and it seemed nothing could clear the
sins from his past except saving the lives his sister destroyed. Hospitals,
morgues, shelters. Every lead turned into a dead end. Adelaide Banvard had
disappeared, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake, and the skills he’d
survived with for so long failed him at every turn.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged back into the club.

The room was dim, lit only by the strobe and spotlights
hanging above him. Taigen’s eyes had adjusted hours ago, just as they did every
night he wasted away in the hole-in-the-wall.

As he sat back down at his corner booth, a waitress brought
him another beer without being asked. The staff had gotten to know him over the
past two years and usually brought him anything he wanted, including the woman
sashaying toward him slowly. One of his favorites.

Her short black hair spiked in every direction, her white
elfish features were pronounced. From Taigen’s guess, she was in her
mid-twenties, stood at five-feet-nothing, weighed a buck ten tops. Pretty, but
her body had seen better days. Scars decorated her arms and legs, some of them
mounds of scar tissue from burns or piercings.

Staring at them now, especially after his recent call to New
York, the pale lines reminded him of Adelaide. Aside from the black hair, the
two could have been sisters.

She swayed her barely clothed hips. The spotlights danced
over her skin. The thigh-high boots she wore fought to stay around her legs,
too baggy for her anorexic thighs. She stopped in front of his booth, eyeing
him thoughtfully.

Taigen had made his decision the moment he spotted her from
across the room. Nodding, he gave her the permission she sought. A wad of cash
made its way into his hand and she started to move to the music blasting over
the speakers. He watched her, studying her imperfections more than the rhythm
of her body, something he found himself doing more and more lately.

Something in the back of his mind pulled his attention
elsewhere as she danced for him. The permanent marks mutilating her light skin
threatened to bring back memories he didn’t want to deal with. Having spent
half his life looking for a serial killer brought back all kinds of stuff like
that.

“Hello there?” a voice said.

Taigen looked up, surprised to see the dancer had already
finished her routine.

“I ain’t dancing for free.” She held her hand out in
anticipation.

He shook his head, clearing thoughts of the past, and
thumbed through the stack of ones in his hand. He counted out twenty, flinging
them toward her without care as he stood.

She fumbled for the bills, grabbing any she could get her
hands on, and glared back at him. The dancer’s green eyes threatened to summon
the guilt he thought he’d buried, and traces of it seeped into his chest as he
forced himself away from her.

Those eyes brought back too many memories.

Taigen rubbed at the pain in his chest and tried to convince
himself it was only the fragmented bullet lodged there that had him short of
breath. Moving toward the door as fast as he could, he registered that most of
the dancers watched him go. It’s your
money they want, he told himself. Nothing
more.

“You’re not leaving already, are you, John?”

John Harrington, only one of the aliases he’d used in the
past two years.

Taigen stopped halfway to the exit and smiled. He knew that
voice and it sure as hell wouldn’t bring back any memories he wanted to forget.
Turning, he gave another of his favorites his full attention. “Yeah, got an
early day.” He gave her a small smile, too exhausted to make more of an effort.
It was the funeral bringing him down, or so he told himself.

She stepped closer to him, her delicious mocha skin
glittering with beads of sweat from her performance. The scarlet outfit she
wore tonight left very little to the imagination and matched her fingernail
polish and lipstick.

He shivered in pleasure, letting his mind get away from him
as his pants grew too tight. “But I could use some company until then.” Taigen
let her step closer, driving his body against hers.

“I have an idea.” She pushed her cornrows back behind her
shoulders as she looked up at him with the deepest brown eyes he’d ever seen.
Her fingers walked themselves up his chest, tickling the skin beneath his
button-down shirt.

“Yeah?” A thin English accent tinted his words, something
he’d inherited from the bastard who’d started this all.

“Why don’t I take the rest of the night off?” she asked,
stepping in closer to whisper next to his ear. “That way, you’ll have me the
rest of the night, and I’ll be sure to wake you for your early morning.” She
showed off the tight muscles in her stomach and legs by taking a step back.
There really wasn’t any need. She’d already closed the sale.

“Deal.” He turned without another word and walked toward the
exit. She could find her own way. Taigen pushed through a crowd of sweaty
bodies to get outside.

The warm night air caressed his skin and he breathed it in
deep. The bullet in his chest stung, but the memories of his former life were
buried deep. It would take more than pain to make him crack.

“Ready?” the girl asked from behind.

“Yeah.” He exhaled in relief. The world in front of him
wasn’t the one he’d left behind, but one he hated just the same. Taigen let her
walk in front of him for the three blocks back to his apartment. His eyes
followed her backside up the first few steps before his body did, but all too
soon they were at his front door and then inside.

Taigen threw his keys onto the table and stripped out of his
leather jacket. “Make yourself at home.” He shuffled toward the fridge after
flipping the lights on.

The apartment was small, just a one-bedroom and one-bathroom
place, but it served its purpose. They’d walked directly into the living room,
where his secondhand furniture took residence: a couch, recliner and small
coffee table on one side and the kitchen with a bar on the other. There were no
decorations, no personal photos of family or friends in sight.

Taigen fished out two beers from the fridge and turned to
face his guest.

The outfit his woman of the night had been sporting at the
club was gone, replaced by a pair of shorts and a tank top. Her chin tilted upward
as he walked across the old wood flooring, and she took the beer from him. “You
rearranged the furniture.”

“Needed a change.” He took a seat in the recliner, keeping
an eye on her as she set her bottle down on the coffee table.

She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Then again,
none of his preferred company really wanted to be with him. They needed money
and would do exactly what he wanted to get it. She slowly came to stand in
front of the recliner and leaned down to place her hands on each arm of his
chair. “Forget the beer.”

Taigen let her lean closer to set her lips against his. The
beer in his hand slipped to the floor. The thud against the old hardwood rang
loud in his ears, but it didn’t matter. She was just a distraction and, at the
moment, she did a damn fine job of it. Shoving his body out of the chair, he
led them toward the bedroom, anticipating all the ways in which she would keep
his mind off his sister and the funeral he’d been looking forward to.

* * *

Out of breath and trembling, Torrhent bolted upright.

Her heart beat like a hammer, the rhythm running faster than
any train. She was sure if anyone had been near, they’d hear it pulsing through
her body. The short reprieve into sleep wouldn’t keep her on her feet for long,
but she didn’t have any other choice. Deadlines had to be met and she’d already
been waiting over a year for her freedom.

She ran her hands over her face and neck, satisfied she was
awake and breathing. She stared at the bottom of an overpass, the one she’d become
accustomed to for the past two nights. Flat on her back, she tried to regain
her composure. “Just a dream,” she whispered, but knew better than that.

It had been her reality for the past year.

Torrhent rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The sound of passing
cars overhead cleared her head and she searched the streets to make sure she
was, in fact, as alone as she felt.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The same cars lined the
streets from the night before and the feeling of outside surveillance had
slithered away. Safe for the time being.

Droplets, like rain, patted against her shoulders, but the
skies were clear. She looked up to find the source. Spots of grease and water
from the overpass above stained her clothing. The liquid seeped through the
cracks slowly and onto her shirt. Another set of clothes ruined.

Time to move. She had two hours until the meeting with her
contact and he wouldn’t wait for her. Document forgers never did.

The summer heat made her miserable, beating against her skin
as she emerged from under the overpass. With no wind to cool her, she stripped
down to her tank top to avoid heat stroke. The sunburn only made it worse.
Taking the elastic band from around her wrist, Torrhent pushed loose strands of
uneven hair off her face. Sweat already dripped down her collarbone as she
walked down the street, which was growing more crowded by the moment.

She needed those papers so she could get off the grid and
make a clean escape. Everything she’d been working for since her incarceration
rested on getting five thousand dollars, and the damn truck driver had taken it
all away. Pushing deeper into the heart of Los Angeles, Torrhent caught sight
of her next target and felt slivers of her anxiety calm.

The man stared down at the newspaper in front of him,
waiting for the bus on a sidewalk bench. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, giving
him a professional look with his classy suit. He didn’t wear a ring on his left
hand. Perfect.

Torrhent pulled a map from her back pocket and unfolded it,
looking above her and down the street in both directions. She wasn’t a
professional, but with her training and assets she’d take him for everything he
was worth. “Excuse me?”

The target looked up in surprise. She’d changed her hair and
covered her face with oversized glasses, but the fact that her picture was on
the front page of his newspaper made her cringe.

Torrhent forced a smile. “I think I’m lost. Would you mind?”
She raised her map slightly, pushing all the pleading she could muster into her
smile.

And he took the bait. “What are you looking for?”

She feigned embarrassment with a small laugh. “Well, I don’t
really know where I am.”

The businessman stood, towering over Torrhent by more than a
foot. His wristwatch said Armani, but she guessed it was a fake. A man who wore
Armani wouldn’t wait for a bus in the middle of summer. He pushed his glasses
back on his nose as he looked down at the map and pointed. “Where are you
trying to go?”

She kept her eyes on him and smiled when his eyes went to
the opening in her shirt. Bingo. She
leaned into him further, pressing her chest against his arm. “The park if you
can believe it. I haven’t quite learned my way around since I got into town.”

He swallowed loudly. The target looked back to the map,
shaking his head, and indicated a specific spot with his finger. “Okay. We’re
here now.” His voice droned on.

She hadn’t been raised to steal, but desperate times called
for desperate measures. Torrhent slowly moved her right hand from the map and
to his side. Her heartbeat sped up, just as it always did when she stole. She
was getting better though. Slipping her index and middle finger in between the
two layers of fabric that made his pants pocket, she felt for the hard ridge of
the wallet she needed. She kept her gaze on the map, occasionally looking up to
meet the target’s eyes as he spoke. She’d practiced this same technique on
dozens of men and an occasional woman. The men were easier, more distracted by
the line of her neck than the hand in their pocket. She gave her current target
reassuring smiles as he explained how to get to the park and her fingers did
their work. Pulling the square leather wallet from his pocket quickly, so he
wouldn’t notice, she palmed the item and hid it from view underneath the map.
Right under his nose.

“So there you go,” he finished, smiling down at her.

Torrhent hadn’t heard a single word with the pounding of her
heart in her ears. “Thank you so much.” She turned to leave, counting her steps
as she made her retreat.

She didn’t make it more than ten feet before he called out
to her.

Her heart stopped.

She turned back to face him, her chest threatening to
explode. She hadn’t been caught yet, but luck never lasted forever.

Half jogging over to her, the target motioned to the map in
her hand. “If you’re free later, I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Torrhent’s heart slowly restarted. She released a breath of
relief and felt the smile of victory spreading across her features. Reaching
for his arm, she placed a gentle touch on his wrist. The feel of the warm metal
of his cufflink warmed her heart. “Sure. I mean, if that’s okay. I don’t want
to take up any of your time. You’re obviously a very important man.” She turned
up the charade, increasing the pressure on his wrist as she worked to unfasten
the cufflink. The metal alone would make her an extra twenty bucks.

It dropped into her hand.

“Not a problem.” He glanced down the street. “That’s my
bus.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and offered it to her. “I’m Sam.
Give me a call.” He gave her a wink and turned when the bus stopped against the
curb.

Torrhent watched him board then tore the business card into
tiny pieces, dropping it into a wastebasket along the street once the bus took
off. She didn’t care if he’d seen. She stared at the cufflink, realizing it
wouldn’t be worth more than a dollar at a pawnshop, and threw it on top of the
torn business card. She’d always had poor skills when it came to figuring
people out. His wallet better have a
bigger payoff.

It felt heavy in her pocket, but there were too many
witnesses to check it out in the street. There was only one reason a woman
would have a man’s wallet and she wasn’t about to attract police attention on
purpose. Not yet.

“Hey!”

Too late.

“Stop her!”

It was Sam. She was sure of it.

With a quick look over her shoulder, Torrhent confirmed her
assumption. She ran. She didn’t know where she’d go, only knew she needed to
get out of sight before the police showed up.

“Hey!”

Her feet slammed into the pavement. She pushed herself
harder. Faster. Pedestrians moved out of her way, but near collisions slowed
her down. Torrhent’s breath caught in her lungs the longer she ran, but she
couldn’t stop. Not yet. She chanced a glance behind her. Sam wasn’t there, but
her relief was short-lived. She slammed into something. Hard.

Torrhent hit the pavement, the breath knocked out of her.
Searing pain swelled in her chest. She struggled to inhale and her backpack
only made it worse, constricting her chest. Trees lining the street swayed
above her head and the pain distracted her too much to focus on much else.

“You should watch where you’re going.” A blurry shape bent
over her.

Her vision cleared and she realized she hadn’t slammed into
something, but someone. Torrhent couldn’t make out any
features with the sun shining directly into her eyes, but she didn’t really
care. Sam could have already called the cops. They already had her description.
They only needed to pinpoint her location. She had to get off the street. She
couldn’t be taken into custody.

She pushed herself to her feet, finding a hand waiting to
help her. Her breath hitched in her throat when she looked up.

A man, well muscled with tribal tattoos running down his
arm, dropped his hand as she brushed herself off. “Harrington.”

“What?”

“The name’s Harrington. Figured you’d want to know.”

With barely a glance in the guy’s direction, Torrhent made
sure Sam hadn’t caught up. She tried to bury the anxiety in her chest, but
couldn’t keep the bite out of her bark. “Why the hell do I care?” Her feet and
her instincts urged her to run. She had a job to do. She didn’t have time for
pointless conversations. But her head wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Well, your hand got up close and personal with my crotch.”

Heat crawled up her face. Two of LA’s finest made their way
toward her and Sam wasn’t far behind. “I’m sure you’ll dream about it later.”
Torrhent turned her back on him. It was only a bad break that had prevented her
from lifting his wallet too.

Rough hands pulled her back.

Harrington flipped her around, their noses inches away from
each other as he held on to her arms. “Didn’t get your name.”

Tall and lean, the man wore sunglasses to hide the most
important feature of any stranger. Eyes told a lot about a person and this guy
wanted to keep his hidden. A passing memory brought on a full sense of déjà vu.
Man. Sunglasses. His jawline reminded her of the man back in the convenience
store in Vegas. And the one in Phoenix. His grip tightened on her upper arms,
but Torrhent had been around dangerous men before. She could handle herself.

He cocked his head slightly to the right, a smile on his
face. He looked her up and down, pushing her heartbeat faster. “Bad dye job,
dirty clothes and B.O. tell me you won’t take the chance of giving yourself
away.” He shoved her away. “Get out of here before I turn you in for attempted
pickpocketing.”

She took off.

Ten minutes later, she found safety. At least for the time
being.

Small and dark, the mostly empty café provided a perfect
place to count the cash she’d lifted from Sam. Only one other patron sat in the
far corner, hiding behind a baseball cap as he looked down at his phone. Again,
familiarity clawed its way into the front of her mind. I’m losing my mind.

It seemed every man she came into contact with made the
hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She wasn’t trained for this covert
crap. In the span of ten minutes she’d convinced herself two different men had
followed her. She eyed the newest one carefully. Maybe they’re working together. Torrhent dislodged the thought. He wouldn’t know where I’d run to . . .
would he?

The men her stepfather employed had ways of predicting where
targets would run, and he was the type of person to use any means necessary to
find her.

Torrhent took a seat next to the window and searched the
café for onlookers. She quickly flipped through the wallet. A few credit cards
were lined up neatly in their slots, but she wouldn’t touch those. She’d
learned her lesson. Removing the cash, she discarded Sam’s wallet onto the
floor.

“What can I get you?” a voice said.

Torrhent’s head shot up in surprise. She slid the money
beneath her leg and out of sight. “Ah,” she said then picked the first thing
she saw on the menu, “I’ll have an egg-white omelet.”

“Anything else? Anything to drink?”

“Just water.” She gave the waitress a close-lipped smirk,
waiting for her to take the menu. She slid the cash back out once the woman
wandered off, but kept her senses open for anything out of the ordinary. It was
only a couple hundred dollars, nothing compared to what the truck driver had
robbed her of. She shivered at the thought of that bastard ripping at her
clothing and she became all too aware of the knife in her boot. It’d saved her
life. Without any real knife training, she’d only been able to swipe at him as
she fell out of the semi, but she’d lived. Her life had been more important
than the money at the time. Now she wondered if she’d made the right choice as
she shoved the bills into her back pocket.

As if she were being watched, Torrhent let her gaze roam
over the café again.

The man on the far side of the restaurant, the one in the
baseball cap, stared directly at her. She still couldn’t pin him as the guy in
Phoenix or Vegas, but something in her gut made her memorize each and every
feature of his hidden face for future reference. His clothes. His skin color.
He kept the angle of his face down, suddenly entranced with the phone in his
hands. Or was it a camera? She’d never considered journalists recognizing her.
She should have, considering they were the ones broadcasting her photo across
the country.

Her thoughts returned to the man she’d run into in the
street. She pictured his tattoos again, the design made up of swirls and points,
and shivered. He’d worn sunglasses, but it didn’t prevent her from picturing
his eyes as a perfect hue of blue. Torrhent catalogued the details in the back
of her mind. Muscular, tall, dangerous, he matched almost everything she looked
for.

Harrington. That’s the name he’d given her. She hadn’t
pegged him for a Harrington.

She forced her gaze back to the table, unsure if the mystery
man’s gaze actually lingered on her or if her paranoia had reached a new
alarming level.

The waitress placed her omelet and a large water down on the
table. “Is there anything else I can get for you today?” she asked, waiting
expectantly.

The waitress retreated to the kitchen and Torrhent struggled
to control her breathing. As if ants crawled beneath her skin, the feeling of
being watched tickled her senses. She took another chance and looked across the
café.

He’d disappeared.

She’d convinced herself her paranoia was necessary. It’s
what kept her alive so far. Unzipping her pack, she emptied the large glass of
water into her bottle, gulped down the omelet and flew out of the little café
as fast as she could. The freeway was less than two blocks away. She half ran
toward the on-ramp. The secretive glances, the familiarity of his clothes and
the way he carried himself, all of it solidified her fear.

Despite having a prison-made hard exterior, some things
still set her on edge. The possibility of death, for one. But even worse,
having the chance to avenge herself and her mother ripped away.

Hope you enjoyed the first look of Die For Me! Check back for updated news on its release!

April 6, 2013

Cherish "Cherry" Williams has been betrayed by her own motorcycle club.
After a late night package delivery goes bad, the club president wants
her head. With every member of the club out looking for her, she seeks
help from the last place they'd suspect--behind enemy lines.

Cooper
Nolan was supposed to be a one-night stand. Now he's her only hope of
survival. But the Vice President of Satan's Army has secrets of his
own, and war between their clubs is inevitable if he doesn't turn Cherry
over to her president.

As connection after connection unravels,
Cooper and Cherry's days--and lust-fueled nights--become a race against
time. Will she and her hot, sexy bartender choose love and trust over
duty and image--or will murder, corruption, and lies turn Cherry and the
best night of her life into nothing more than a memory?

Desperate to save her own life, she sells her body in order to make the monthly
payments her father owes The Family. But when Trey discovers her father hasn’t
been making the payments, she’s forced to turn to the one man she hoped never
to see again.

As a deputy of the Parkvista Police Department, Luke Johnson refuses to
acknowledge his high school sweetheart is a prostitute and is determined to
make Trey see it for herself. That is, until she starts treating him as a client.
His faith in his ability to know right from wrong is challenged and he isn’t
the only one who’s noticed. His brothers on the force don’t have his back where
Trey is concerned, leaving him to fight against them for a criminal.

The Family is out to make her pay, her father’s drunken rages are getting
worse, and the town is cracking down on prostitution, but what really has Trey
on edge is the fact she’s falling for the deputy who wants her behind bars.

March 10, 2013

I'm in the middle of revisions on my newest WIP, Mortal Eclipse.I started this book three years ago and meant it to be the second installment in the five-book series. Turns out, it sat better as a great introduction.Right now, Vdarra Jansen's just been hit over the head with a tire iron while trying to repo a woman's car. What happens next is only the beginning...

The word “hypnotizing” came to mind when she
heard the voice, a deep tone that made her want more, like an Australian
accent. Unclear as to where the words came from, Vdarra suspected she wouldn’t
be able to forget the sound if she happened to suffer another round of amnesia.
The words had been familiar in a way, almost as if she’d heard the voice
before. A tugging sensation took residence in the center of her chest and her
attention drew to the black blur on her left side.

Look out for Mortal Eclipse and the rest of the Afterlife Series coming soon!

Vdarra Jansen
doesn’t have memory of anything until eight years ago, but her kidnappers don’t
care.

Held captive by a
trio claiming to be immortals, Vdarra is ripped from her normal life as a repo
expert in NYC and thrown into the world of the Afterlife.

Jacob, former
archangel and warrior of Heaven, is desperate to find the key to raising the secret army of hell before the
demon and nearly loses his mind when the similarities between his lost love
and their captive overlap. Caught between his desperate need to find his
banished mate and the moral obligation to save billions of lives, Jacob
realizes he can’t have one without losing the other.

Jacob and Vdarra
fight against the past and the Deceiver himself to prevent the Heiress’s
resurrection, but without the key to the army or Vdarra’s memories to guide
them, the fate of mankind is doomed to end and so is their rekindling love.

February 26, 2013

It's been an amazing year since I first self-published Let Me Out. I can't even believe it's been a year. And a rough one at that!Let Me Out took three full years to finish. With drafting then revisions, I've ripped apart this story numerous times, just never seeming to get it right. Then I joined a writers group. Granted, RWA wasn't exactly the perfect place to develop my little psychopath, but I learned so much from the writers there and even received an invitation for a critique group. That's where Let Me Out started to shine.At first I went all out; I formatted the book for CreateSpace (print and ebook), PubIt, and Smashwords, but Amazon is really where this title took off when I went to the KDP Select Program. I couldn't believe what people were saying about the book and how far Amazon went to promote Let Me Out.People actually LOVED it.

Now, with the sequel, Die For Me, coming soon,Beyond the Page Publishinghas graciously contracted Let Me Out for re-release when the new book comes out. Edits are underway and I can't help but express my neverending gratitude to the following people in my life:

Siobhan Muir, you've always been there for me and called me on my bullshit. You're one of the best critique partners an author could ask for. I can't wait to see how my future stories turn out because of you and I hope we'll always have our dinner dates.I want to thank the ladies ofLVRWAwho welcomed me with open arms, helped develop my skills and put my career on track.

Anne Gallagher, you may not know it, but I was inspired by your determination to get your books on the market and you gave me the courage to self-publish. I love reading your blog and even though I didn't believe in self-publising, you've taught me it's not something to be afraid of.Yevinn Graphicsmade me an amazing cover, which I gawk at everytime I see it. They also designed my website.Morgan Kearnsis the formatting queen and I can never thank her enough for her patience.Jessica Faust and Bill Harris ofBeyond the Page Publishingdeserve a huge shout out for taking on this book for re-release. I can't wait for our partnership to grow.I have to thank my husband for putting up with long nights, early mornings and endless questions after he read the book. Love you.And a last thank you to those readers who picked up Let Me Out. You gave me and my characters a chance. I can't thank you enough. But I'll try with more stories and a giveaway!In celebration of Let Me Out's one year anniversary, I'm giving away 10 copies of the paperback! Leave a comment telling me who inspires you in life and why with your Twitter handle or email address so I can contact you.